


Don't Romanticize Love At First Sight

by verboseDescription



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Human Arum, M/M, Multi, college is a disaster, he's still kind of weird tho, sir marc's in this too but its not letting me tag that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-17 03:14:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11266773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verboseDescription/pseuds/verboseDescription
Summary: After meeting a handsome stranger at the gym, Damien finds it hard to get him out of his head





	Don't Romanticize Love At First Sight

A man working out near Damien is eyeing him strangely. Normally, this would be the kind of thing Damien would approach a person about, but considering he _was_ trying to use an elliptical machine with a broken leg, Damien figures some staring might be warranted—not that that changed the fact it made him kind of nervous. But to be fair, everything made Damien nervous.

“Are you sure you should be doing that?” the man asks. “Recovery is an important part of fitness, just as exercise is.”

“I’m recovered enough!” Damien protests, not bothering to mention he had gotten the injury in question only a few days prior. “I know my body much better than you, good stranger.”

“That may be true, but just because I don’t know your body doesn’t mean I don’t know how bodies work,” the stranger replies. “And I can tell you, what you’re about to do is going to end in tragedy.”

“You seem very sure about that,” Damien says. “I’d love to prove you wrong.”

“You won’t, really,” the stranger says with a hint of exasperation and amusement.

“Care to test that out?” Damien asks. “You and I will do our sets together, and we’ll see which one of us is stronger, and which one of us falters first.”

“I can’t imagine it wouldn’t be you,” the stranger tells him. “You’re clearly much more fragile than I.”

“We shall see,” Damien says. “Now, may I ask the name my opponent?”

“Opponent? How overdramatic,” the stranger sniffs. “But it’s Arum.”

“Well, Arum, I am Damien--,”

“—I know,” Arum interrupts. Seeing Damien’s confusion he adds, “You’re the RA for my building. I see you all the time with that loud-mouthed brickhouse you call a friend.”

“You mean, RA Angelo?” Damien guesses. Arum snorts.

“Who else?”

And with that out of the way, they get to work. Arum clearly thinks he’s got the upper hand, and that regardless of Damien’s bravado, his injury will stop him from doing anything strenuous. Arum clearly didn’t know Damien. If he had, he might have not been so surprised to see him running on the treadmill next to him, running steadily despite his broken limb. If Arum had known Damien, he might have not been surprised enough to stop running, causing him to lurch backwards and hit the gym floor.

Damien stops his machine immediately.

“Are you alright?” he asks, hobbling over. “Oh, saints above, please tell me you haven’t hurt yourself.”

“Nothing but my pride, honeysuckle,” Arum replies, rubbing the back of his head and looking slightly annoyed. “I suppose you’ve won.”

“Nonsense!” Damien says with a smile, offering a hand that Arum—perhaps wisely, considering Damien’s current balance—doesn’t take. “I took you by surprise! This was but a draw! We’ll meet again tomorrow, or the day after, and we’ll find our winner then!”

Arum looks slightly startled, but smiles back at Damien.

“I think I’d like that,” he says. “Until next time, RA Damien.”

And then the man bows and leaves the room. It strikes Damien as incredibly… charming.

Oh, _saints above._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_There is nothing that could compare_

_To a being so fair_

_But when I see a lilac I know I must examine it—_

_For it reminds me of your eyes of amethyst—_

Damien lets out a yelp before tearing up the poem in his notebook. What was he _doing?_ Rilla didn’t have amethyst eyes. Her eyes were a beautiful, dark, calming brown. They were eyes he could get lost in for hours, for _days—_ but they weren’t purple. Damien only knew one person with purple eyes at that was Arum.

Damien lets out another noise, this time a deep sigh. Marc looks on sympathetically.

“Homework problems?” he guesses. As an office assistant, Marc had essentially all the responsibilities of an RA, without the perk of living in the building free, a fact Marc complained about constantly, saying RA Caroline had ruined his chances of having that perk. Damien doesn’t really believe this, partially because it doesn’t make a lot of sense, but generally he’s willing to listen to Marc complain anyways. It’s not like office hours are normally that exciting, even in Citadel Hall.

“In a sense,” Damien says with a sigh.

“You know,” Marc tells him. “We’re the same major. I could probably help you out. What’s the assignment?”

“A poem about something you love,” Damien replies morosely. “Or a person.”

“But you’re writing Rilla poems all the time!” Marc says. “What happened, run out of things to compare her eyes to?”

Damien just sighs in response. Marc raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t comment.

“Well,” Marc says. “I’ve gotta talk to HD Queen for a sec. Mind staying here?”

Damien waves him off and goes back to staring at his notebook. What was _wrong_ with him? Normally he didn’t write poems about strange men, and normally the poems he wrote were of a _much_ higher quality.

What had happened? Had he managed to become so lovesick for someone he had only just met that it was going to result in a failing grade? He couldn’t accept that.

He couldn’t accept that he could fall in love like that when he had _Rilla,_ sweet, beautiful Rilla, with a smile that could—

“You know,” Damien says. “Despite whatever movies you’re watching tell you, it’s very hard to sneak by someone when you’re directly behind them.”

Arum lets out a hiss of annoyance.

“You looked busy!” he insists. “I simply did not wish to bother you.”

“And I suppose that explains the keys you took?” Damien replies. “I hope you don’t take me for a fool, Arum. I remember what building I’m living in.”

“I’m not some kind of troubled adult acting out,” Arum scowls. “Despite what you all think of us, we’re not all _terrible_ students looking to get expelled.”

“Then why?”

“My roommate locked me out,” Arum admitted grudgingly. “I didn’t want to make a big deal of it.”

“A _big deal?”_ Damien repeats, shocked. “This is your _home_ you’re talking about.”

“It’s not like you can do anything about it,” Arum sniffs. “You can’t leave the office, I know, and what words could you say to make the Janus twins change their mind?”

“You’re rooming with _them_?” Damien frowns. “My sincerest apologies.”

“And now you’re not about to give me the key because it’s against _the rules_ ,” Arum replies, practically growling. He hands back the key he took. “Which means I’ll either have to wait here on the chance whoever else was supposed to be with you returns soon, or learn how to _deface school property_ for the sole reason of opening a _door.”_

“There really is no need to go so far.”

“Isn’t there?”

“Would it really be so terrible to spend some time with me?”

“No,” Arum replies, and Damien could see a strange kind of melancholy in his unusual eyes. “No, I suppose it wouldn’t.”

“Well then!” Damien exclaims brightly, unsure of what to do about the pounding in his chest. “I suppose you better pull up a chair.”

Arum pulls up a chair grudgingly. It strikes Damien how different he is from Rilla, despite how similar they make him feel—a thought that, even admitted to himself, felt like a betrayal of the worst kind.

Arum, with his shaved head and pierced eyebrows, and clothes worth more than anything Damien had ever even tried on. There was no softness to him, not in his sharp jaw or calloused pierced tongue, and yet the feelings Damien had for him were softer then the egg of any bird.

Rilla had a steadiness to her, but she is still soft. Her voice eases him in a way nothing does, her hair is softer than anything he’s ever known, and her smile, oh, her smile—

But Arum is not Rilla. And there are… there are far too many differences for him to want to claim the feelings as the same, and yet—

And yet.

“What’s your major, Arum?” Damien asks, feeling foolish for starting a conversation with such a common topic.

“Architecture,” Arum tells him. “I may switch to engineering, but as for now, I’m hoping to put an end to buildings like this.”

Damien laughs at that, knowing exactly what he means.

“If you plan on putting this building out of its misery,” Damien says. “I’m sure OA Marc will have _plenty_ of suggestions for the new building, especially regarding the elevators.”

“How do you two even get to class?” Arum asks. “I’ve been in those elevators, and the less said of that experience, the better.”

“A strong will and desire not to fail,” Damien replies. “Also, Marc has been known to ride his wheelchair down the stairs. He’s getting very good at doing this with minimal damage to himself.”

“I’m fairly certain ‘minimal damage’ is more damage than should be had going down a flight of stairs.”

“I’m not the one you have to convince, friend.”

“So I’m a friend now?” Arum raises an eyebrow. “And to think, you didn’t even know my name just a few hours prior!”

“I like to think all the residents here are my friends,” Damien says. “Well—the ones who don’t wish death on me, that is.”

“The Janus twins?” Arum guesses.

“To name a few, yes. I’m not very well liked here,” Damien says. “I suspect it’s because I do my job.”

“ _I_ like you,” Arum tells him, and the intensity of his words shock them both. “That is to say… you’re… you’re doing a fine job.”

Damien opens his mouth to respond, but his heart betrayals him.

He’s had enough of this—of his heart leaping out of his chest because of innocent words, of his eyes begging him not to let Arum leave their gaze, of his _guilt_ , because there was Rilla, sweet Rilla, who was no doubt studying for a test, none the wiser of her boyfriend’s traitorous heart.

So Damien opens his mouth, starts to cry.

Arum doesn’t know how to respond, of course, and this situation is made worse by the fact that this is the moment Rilla choses to enter, textbooks in hand, and mouth open.

 _“What did you do?”_ Rilla demands. Any remainders of a calm exterior Arum might have had has completely deteriorated.

“I don’t _know!”_ he exclaims, hissing in annoyance. “Your boyfriend is _infuriatingly_ difficult to understand. One minute we’re having a perfectly delightful conversation, and the next, he’s in tears!”

“People don’t just cry for no reason,” Rilla argues, holding the textbooks out in front of her like a weapon.

They’re an interesting pair, for sure. Rilla’s small, but fierce, and her anger radiates outward despite her only intimidation factor being the anarchist necklace she sometimes wore and possibly the frankly impressive amount piercings she wore on her ears. In all senses, Arum dwarfed her. He was taller, _much_ taller, more muscular and wore a scowl like he was born with it. The rings on his fingers looked as if they were meant to bruise another, and yet between the two of them, it’s Arum who’s wilting, and not his flower.

She’s wearing her favorite shirt today, the one that says, “Alchemists are just fantasy scientists” and that knowledge pleases Damien immensely before he remembers he’s a terrible excuse for a human being.

“I’m a terrible excuse for a human being,” Damien moans. Rilla and Arum both look at him, shocked.

“Sweetheart, you’re a wonderful person. You’re—isn’t there supposed to be someone else in here with him?” Rilla demands. “Where’s Marc—why isn’t he here?”

“What do you need _him_ for?” Arum asks.

“All RAs know how to deal with someone crying,” Damien explains with a sniffle. “It’s in the job description.”

“And Marc’s close enough,” Rilla agrees before cooing over her boyfriend. “Damien, what’s wrong? You know you can tell me anything—you always speak your heart, remember?”

Damien’s face crumples, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Whatever it is, if it’s worth crying over, I’m certain it’s worth cursing out loud,” Arum tells him. Rilla looks as though she would have laughed at that, had she not been so worried. Damien takes a deep breath, begging for the saints to grant him tranquility, to let this work itself out.

“I’m having… feelings,” he begins.

“Feelings?” Rilla repeats.

“Feelings,” Arum says, incredulous. Rilla elbows him.

“I like you, Arum,” Damien says, and the honesty of the statement shocks Arum enough that he reaches around for something to steady himself with. “But that does not change how I feel about you, Rilla.”

“You can date more than one person, you know,” Rilla says with a found smile.

“Well _I_ know that!” Damien exclaims. “But I didn’t know _you_ did! Or perhaps you knew of it, and hated the thought, and would hate me for admitting I didn’t, or that you’d think I wanted to abandon you—which I would _never,_ Rilla you must believe me!—and then there’s Arum, and I barely know Arum, but I _like_ him, he’s strange and impressive and I don’t want him to think ill of me, but what else could he think? After all—“

“Damien,” Rilla interrupts. “I know you like to speak your heart, but I think you’re going to have to tell it to slow down. Take a deep breath, okay?”

Damien obliges.

“Now, I don’t know about Arum, because frankly we’ve talked like, what, three times? But I know I could never hate you.”

“Oh you say that _now_ ,” Damien murmurs. “But you are far too good for someone like me, Rilla. You’re a rare flower, a precious encounter, a--,”

“I think I can chose who I want to be with just fine,” Rilla says. “And right now, I chose you. And I always will.”

“And Arum can speak for himself as well,” Arum adds, doing his best to look nonchalant and failing miserably. “And I can tell you that I wouldn’t be…. Opposed to the thought. Of us, I mean.”

“Oh,” Damien says. He’s not sure what else to say. “That’s nice.”

“Yes,” Arum says, looking as though he’s not sure whether to laugh or scream. “It certainly is.”

Marc rolls back into the office and examines the three of them quizzically.

“Did I miss something?” he asks.

“Well…,” Damien begins.

“None of your business, _office assistant_ ,” Arum hisses.

“Were you locked out of your room again?” Marc asks knowingly. Arum hisses at him while Rilla looks on in amusement.

“Again?” she repeats. “Is that a common thing with you?”

“Of course not!” Arum insists. Marc snorts.

“Yeah, that’s why I see you climbing into your window all the time.”

“Aren’t you on the fourth floor?” Rilla asks.

“Isn’t there a _screen_?” Damien asks. Arum rolls his eyes.

“It’s very easy to get rid of window screens, honeysuckle,” he says. Rilla shakes her head.

“You’ve been living on my floor to me all year,” she says. “How did I never know you were so interesting?”

“Too busy yelling at the Janus twins to quiet down, I’d imagine,” Arum replies. “I’m not sure why they haven’t gotten kicked out yet.”

At this, Damien receives a pointed look, but Damien has no jurisdiction over the fourth floor, and so chooses to ignore it.

“Let’s get you back to your room, Arum,” Damien says, grabbing a set of keys. “445, correct?”

“Yes,” Arum says. “… Thank you.”

“Of course!” Damien smiles. “RA Caroline isn’t here, but that doesn’t mean I can’t give them a talking to on your behalf.”

“Or I could do it,” Rilla offers. “They don’t really think I’m terrifying or anything, but they do think I’m a witch, which has to count for something.”

“Aren’t you?” Arum asks.

“Well, kind of, but not really the type they’re picturing.”

 

The elevator is cramped and dark. Rilla comments that it looks more like a cave and Arum says that if Damien uses it till his leg heals, he’ll never fear anything again. Rilla snorts.

  “He’s plenty fearless when he wants to be,” she says.

“Plenty foolish, more like,” Arum scowls. “Did you know I met him at the gym this morning? I saw him on the _treadmill!”_

“He was doing _what?”_

“It’s very nice to see the two of you getting along,” Damien says timidly. Rilla rolls her eyes.

 

“Hello!” Damien calls pleasantly, knocking on Arum’s door. “It’s RA Damien. May I come in, or do I have to force the door down?”

“That sounds a lot less intimidating when you say it,” Arum says with a smirk. Rilla nudges him.

The door doesn’t open, so Damien opens it and makes a face. Rilla peers in and makes a similar one.

“Yeah, you’re gonna fail room inspection,” Rilla says. Arum hisses at her.

“Can’t you just move rooms?” Damien asks, trying very carefully not to trip on anything.

“And go where?” Arum demands. “The semester’s halfway done, and I could be trading Janus for anyone. No, I’d rather know my enemy and deal with them than venture into the unknown.”

“I know you can’t technically live with an RA if you aren’t one,” Rilla says, pushing aside junk with her foot to help clear Damien’s path. “But Damien and Angelo do have like, an entire suite to themselves.”

“I’d rather eat glass.”

“Figures.”

Damien can hear loud music from one of the Janus twin’s rooms. Damien sighs and knocks on the door. It swings open to reveal the Janus sibling with the shorter hair.

“What?” they demand.

“Who dares disturb us?” their twin shrieks from inside the room.

“RA Damien,” Damien says. “Hello! You seem like terrible roommates.”

Both Janus twins draw in a great breath, clearly ready to start an argument. Before they can, Rilla moves in front of the doorway with an expression that could turn a weaker man to stone.

“I know you don’t want to upset me,” she says coolly. “And I would _strongly_ suggest that you stop whatever senseless cruelty you want to bring about and _learn to be decent adults.”_

“I would suggest listening to her,” Damien says. “She has been known to curse those who displease her.”

“We don’t have to listen to _her,”_ one sibling sneers. “She’s nothing more than a chemist in training!”

“And we certainly don’t have to listen to _you_ ,” the other adds. “You’re not our RA! This isn’t your floor! RA Caroline’s the one in charge of four!”

“That means very little in this situation,” Damien tells them. “I can think of countless things I could write you up for just from being here for mere seconds! And like all Ras, I can take that up with the HD. Now, maybe one or two of those things alone wouldn’t get a person kicked out, but I can’t imagine someone with all of those demerits staying in a dorm, not even Citadel Hall.”

“Are you threatening us?” one twin demands. The other pales.

“Maybe… we should consider what is being said,” they tell their twin, who looks offended at the thought. Arum taps his long fingernails on the wall impatiently.

“Are you finally realizing that consequences might have actions?” he asks. “Because I’d really like to do homework without having to listen to your inane cackling and terrible music.”

“We will be more careful in the future,” one twin promises.

“Yes,” the other agrees, closing the door. “More subtle.”

Arum, Damien, and Rilla all stare at the closed door.

“Well _that_ sounded ominous,” Rilla comments. Arum hisses in disappointment.

“I don’t think those two will ever learn,” he says. “No matter what the consequences are.”

“If they keep giving you trouble, I’m just across the hall,” Rilla says and pats Arum’s arm sympathetically. Arum eyes the door near them cautiously.

“I may take you up on that,” Arum replies.

“It’ll be fun!” Rilla tells him. “We can drink some wine and talk trash about everyone you hate.”

“That _does_ sound fun,” Arum agreed. Damien looks at them, shocked.

 _“Rilla!”_ he gasps. “This is a _dry campus.”_

“I’ve made that joke _hundreds of times_ ,” Rilla reminds him. “And I still don’t have any alcohol. Don’t worry, Damien. You know nobody cares about that stuff anyways.”

Damien pouts and Rilla ruffles his hair affectionately.

“I should return to my post,” Damien says.

“I’ll keep you company!” Rilla tells him. “That’s the reason I brought my textbooks downstairs in the first place—so I could hang out with you and study.”

“I always appreciate your company,” Damien tells her. He looks back at Arum uncertainly. “I’ll see you around.”

“You do know where I live,” Arum tells him. “And we do have a duel to finish, don’t we?”

Damien beams at him, and Rilla shakes her head affectionately.

“You’re both giant dorks,” she tells Damien as she walks out of the suite with him. Damien laughs.

“It seems to be a quality you find quite dashing,” he tells her.

**Author's Note:**

> I had a friend who started coming over to my d8m8's dorm so much that she started joking about how she lived there. they weren't even in the same building. anyways, that's probably arum by like, the end of the week  
> i want u to know, the title is a joke. they r disaster boys. no meet cutes here (im actually made at myself for that @ me: let damien fall in love without feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders, u tragedy creation monster)  
> Also i feel like it's probably relevant to say that on my first full day at my college, I was hanging out w/ a girl who told this guy she was polyam, and he was probably her & her bfs type. I definitely should have written that au instead. (he said he was straight, but was considering it)  
> anyways thanks 2 podcastss on tumblr for suggesting a college au  
> hmu @ofdreamsanddoodles on tumblr if u wanna talk, esp if u wanna give a prompt. im not holey statisfied w/ how this came out, but it would be fun to do again


End file.
